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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856284">Unapologetic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMaigrey/pseuds/LadyMaigrey'>LadyMaigrey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Torture, Japanese Rope Bondage, Marvel Happily Ever After Harlequin Hoopla 2020, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rope Bondage, Shibari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMaigrey/pseuds/LadyMaigrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd like to try it again" were not the words Karen ever expected to hear from Matt. Not after that night, which saw him shaking from the memories. But if there was any chance that she could help him erase the imprint of those horrors, she was willing to dedicate all of her soul, love and skill to the task.</p><p>**An unexpected second chapter to "Unbreakable", but can be read as stand-alone - just read the notes**</p><p>**Also unexpectedly fills MHEAHQN2020's prompt "Presents (must be rated M or E) - Kink Negotiations"**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock/Karen Page</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MHEA Harlequin Hoopla Prompt Challenge 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unapologetic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyEllison/gifts">LilyEllison</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was born thanks to LilyEllison, who wanted a "fluffy and/or smutty" version of Unbreakable. So, this is me trying my hand at a "porn for porn's sake" fic. If it didn't work - blame her (and go read her stuff for good Karedevil porn) :)</p><p>For those who landed on this without reading my "Reclaiming the Martyr" series, the story so far (without too many spoilers): couple years prior to this fic's setting, Matt got captured by Fisk and bad things happened. He recovered with the unflagging help from Karen, Foggy and Frank, but PTSD nightmares continued to haunt his sleep. Karen - armed with some fairly esoteric knowledge gained in the years after she left her home town in Vermont - tried to help Matt using a form of exposure therapy. Fortunately (or unfortunately) it worked by helping Matt uncover and face the memories of his encounter with Fisk, but the process itself was pretty traumatic.</p><p>This story is set a couple month after that night.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="ujudUb xpdxpnd">
  <p><em>'I won't give nothing less of me...nothing less than all of me.'</em> </p>
</div><p>Karen glanced up from her laptop at the sound of rummaging in one of their wardrobe drawers. Although, it wasn’t the continuous rustling that pulled her out of her thoughts - for that had been going close on half hour, as Matt finally got around to sorting the various odds and ends of old clothing and gym gear – but, rather, it was the prolonged pause and the stillness of his arms that drew her attention.  Recently, she had become hyperaware of how the minutia of her environment wormed in among the ordinary flow of her thoughts; how much more attention her brain now paid to the subtle changes at the margins of her vision or at the edges of her hearing. It was one of the many profoundly-simple and joyful evolutions that Matt Murdock’s presence wrought in her being.</p><p>She now shifted on the bed to get a better view, and froze in apprehension when she saw Matt’s fingers delicately questing within the coils of carefully-washed cotton rope, rubbing his thumb over the strands resting on his palm. He tilted his head at her arrested movement.</p><p>“I… umm… got a few bundles, for that night. I forgot I put them in there…” she stammered.</p><p>Matt turned his face towards her, and she was thankful to see the slight upturn of his lips, the crinkle at his eyes.</p><p>“It’s soft. I remember… not expecting that. Being surprised. Or, maybe, it was your hands that I focused on.”</p><p>She felt her cheeks heating, but it wasn’t all due to the embarrassment over the obvious compliment. No praise was appropriate for that night. No matter how soft and gentle her hands had been, they dredged up horrors - caused him to relive an experience so abhorrent, she could not comprehend his survival, though she thanked providence for it every day. So she could not bring herself to take any pride in her role, even if it was an obvious turning point in his struggle against nightmares.</p><p>Karen fully expected him to drop the subject, having sensed her discomfort, but he rose and walked over to the bed, poked at her leg until she gave him room to sit next to her.</p><p>“You learned this… while you were in Salem?”</p><p>It was a good guess, based on the fairly-sketchy details that he had of the path she traveled south from Vermont, which eventually brought her to New York and this apartment. She nodded, and, even as she told herself she had nothing to apologise for, her face colored again. He didn’t ignore it this time. His hand was at her cheek, adding more heat to it from his skin, but this was always a welcome source of strength for her.</p><p>“I was lucky, you know? I managed to survive and feed myself without ever having to have sex for money. I wasn’t smarter, or more educated, or more moral, than any other girl with no means and no family, who stumbled off the Greyhound because it was the first town that didn’t immediately remind of home. I was just lucky.”</p><p>Matt’s hand had slipped off her cheek as she talked, but remained resting on her arm, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into it. Now he nodded.</p><p>“I am not judging. You had to survive. You had to make choices you could’ve never predicted.”</p><p>She trusted his hand and voice, and his genuine interest in knowing her story.</p><p>“I got a few shifts at a diner, and that covered a room’s rent, but not much else. I met this guy, who wanted a new … assistant for demonstrations of Shibari. Japanese bondage. He showed me and… what surprised me was that it didn’t have to be sexual and punishing, although many see it that way. It could be… comforting, or grounding… or, even, relaxing. That’s what a lot of the, umm, clients wanted. He offered to teach me, so I learned... but the, umm, establishment where he worked… <em>we</em> worked… they also needed someone to help them with their books. And, I guess, I was better at that, and enjoyed it more, cause I used to do it for my Dad…”</p><p>Karen shook her head, pulling herself back to the present.</p><p>“Anyway, it got me some extra money - enough to even do some accounting courses at a community college. As I said – I was lucky.”</p><p>Matt was frowning in the way he had, when he was trying to put together bits of information that rubbed at the edges, especially when he had gleaned one of those pieces directly from his senses.</p><p>“You didn’t like it then. I can hear it in your voice. But you did that night. With me.” His own voice was soft - there was no accusation in it - but guilt flooded Karen nonetheless.</p><p>“You are… It’s different…  I wanted to help. I thought those things I learned… they could be made useful. To help you.”</p><p>His thumb was moving in the soothing circles on her skin again, and the calm smile was back on his lips.</p><p>“You did help.”</p><p>“And I think I was too worried about you to… enjoy anything.”</p><p>“I know,” he cocked his head, “Would you like to try it again?”</p><p>“What?” Her head reeled from the unexpected whiplash. “Matt, no! It wasn’t good for you! It may have helped long-term, but, the process…” she stopped when she saw him shaking his head.</p><p>“I got used to it. It was, uh, strange, at first. Confronting. But, I told you, I focused on your hands. It wasn’t that different to meditation. I could’ve just kept my mind there. I chose to try to face the memories instead,” his eyes were almost on hers as he spoke, and, as always, a part of her mind marveled at the uncomplicated honesty he was gifting her. No glasses, no apologies, no attempts to protect her from the uncomfortable realities of his blindness.</p><p>She almost missed his next words and could only gape when they registered as <em>I’d like to try it again</em>.</p><p>Matt could obviously feel her alarm and hurried ahead, “I don’t think my memories will be a problem this time. I don’t need to go looking for answers anymore. I want to just focus on you,” he was openly grinning now, “and I want to know if you’d enjoy it.”</p><p>Karen looked at the bundles of rope he still held in one hand, and was pushing herself off the bed, before her brain caught up enough to pose any further questions. She knew she wasn’t just eager. She was crazy nervous, close to being terrified. She didn’t know if she wanted to do this, but she certainly craved a chance to repaint the image of that night - for both of them; to erase the shadow of Fisk’s torture, and impress a signature of her love in its stead. So she allowed her instincts to lead her out of the bedroom and towards their dining room table, leaving Matt still sitting on the bed, head cocked at her sudden departure.</p><p>She grabbed one of the chairs and returned, planting it down in front of him.</p><p>“Sit here.”</p><p>Her voice grew low and languid – a hint of intimacy behind the curtain of laziness, but her body was certainly telling a different story. Her heart started pounding when she saw Matt carefully lay the rope down on the bedspread, walk over to the chair and lower himself into it, his face raised towards her, restrained curiosity written all over it.</p><p>She let him simmer in his uncertainty as she sketched a design in her mind, unraveled the time by gathering the rope from the bed and searching inside the still-open drawer for another bundle of cotton. She threw careful glances in his direction, trying to detect any evidence of unease, any effort to feign calmness -but there were none, and she grew bolder with every second.</p><p>When she returned to his side, slipping the safety shears into her back pocket, his expression was attentive, his shoulders – straight, but his hands lay in uncurled relaxation on his lap, and one fuzzy-socked foot was hooked behind the chair’s leg. Karen dropped down on one knee by that foot, running two fingers lightly down his sweatpants-covered thigh, over the angle of the knee, spreading her hand around his calf, her palm absorbing his involuntary shivers that chased her touch. She grasped his ankle and tugged it into place against the steel leg, wrapping the rope around both. His muscle tensed and flexed under her hand and against the strands she layered. She kept the pressure of the rope light, evenly distributed - a hugging belt, rather than a cruel knot, supported by the gentle, sure movements of her fingers.</p><p>She looked up at his face again, checking-in, not trusting him to stop her even if he was feeling overwhelmed, but the slight angle of his head indicated pure focus untainted by stress. She was still surprised when she scooted around to the other side of the chair and found his foot by the chair’s leg, ready for her to repeat the tie.</p><p>This chair was far from ideal for her purposes. It had no arm-rests that she could bind his wrists to. Although the half-solid backing was pleasantly-shaped and padded, it was annoyingly positioned just below the curve of Matt’s shoulders, so she could not tie his arms behind him without straining his rotator cuff tendons. Even if the pain would’ve been minor in comparison to what he danced with on nightly basis, Karen had no intentions of inflicting even that on him. The trust he offered her demanded nothing less than absolute reverence.</p><p>That left her with only one viable option. </p><p>Karen stood up, unable to stop herself from grazing his cheek with her fingers as he raised his head to follow her. She let her hand slide down his neck, over the steady hammer of his pulse, down the smooth expanse of his chest covered in washed-out cotton, across the strong ridges of his abdomen, and then to circle his wrist, as she shifted behind the chair and crouched down again.</p><p>Her movements slowed, her sensitivity ratcheted up to its peak, watching for any sign of reluctance as she wrapped another length of rope above his hand and secured it firmly to the chair’s back leg, just below the seat. She had stretched the rope’s tail behind the chair and reached for his other wrist, when she felt him shudder. Minute and suppressed as it was, she immediately shifted her hand to gently squeeze his, waiting, watching the play of the half-apologetic grin on his face, denied by the line between his brows. His chest rose in a deep sigh with which he attempted to expel his mind’s resistance and she saw his eyes slip closed, before feeling a return squeeze on her hand.</p><p>A part of her wanted to wait longer, or to call an end to the whole scene, but something told her that this was as much about Matt needing to test himself against a barrier he probably (stupidly, tragically) thought he had failed, as it was about her wanting to erase the memories of her misdeeds. So she lifted his unresisting hand, and brought it down to the chair’s leg and the rope waiting there.</p><p>He was incapacitated now, but if she ceased the movement of her hands, he would have nothing to focus on. And, if she were honest with herself, slow warmth was spreading beneath the fluttering of her nerves; catching her breath with the possessive joy over this freedom to touch and position him, to lay the rope over him as an indelible brand of her love.</p><p>She ran a new strand of rope around his waistline, using the chair’s back to secure it, then took it up over his shoulders and down across his chest, weaving it in and out of itself, creating a pattern of intricate lines, twists and knots over his torso, pausing if she felt him tense - if his breath lost the rhythm she had tuned into. She kept the tension light, just pressing the rope over the cloth and into his skin. She felt him shudder again, when the rope went around the back of his neck. It didn’t touch his throat, but Karen knew the proximity was enough for his body to raise an alarm, so she dropped the remaining coil, letting it rest in his lap, while her hands lightly stroked his bare arms, waiting for his breath to return to its steady cadence.</p><p>When she finally tied off the last knot and tucked in the remaining end, there was not a single line of strain in his features, but it was her own breath that she couldn’t quite control. The warmth at her center bloomed into suffocating heat as she watched his bound form - the ropes straining against him with his every inhalation, juxtaposing the curves of his muscles visible even through his t-shirt. All of a sudden, she understood the terrible attraction of wanting to see this magnificent man helpless.</p><p>Caught.</p><p>Chained.</p><p>Just as Fisk had done.</p><p>And though she knew that she would never, <em>ever</em> …</p><p>She shook her head, trembled in her whole being.  And dropped to her knees between his legs, running her hands up his thighs, watching his face – his eyes were still closed, but she could tell that her sudden movement claimed his attention. She saw his lips fall open in a voiceless <em>oh</em> when she dipped one hand into the waistband of his sweats and drew his length out, stroking gently before bending her head and taking him in.</p><p>She kept her tongue flat in a soft laving caress over the delicate skin, setting no particular rhythm as he hardened in her mouth, hearing the first whisper of a moan. She was hopelessly addicted to that sound, so she bent forward to cover more of him and lightly sucked as she pulled back, ending with a flick of her tongue across the tip, feeling him quiver and tasting the welling salt.</p><p>There were plenty of nights when she chose to pit the relentlessness of her mouth against his stubborness, ignoring the ache in her jaw as she heard him lose the battle against the primal need of his hypersensitive body. She hoped he knew that she didn’t want that tonight. All she desired, in every single fibre and sinew, was for him to accept the easy pleasure, to let it flow over him and into him, washing away the memories of forced powerlessness.</p><p>She felt his thigh muscles contract, his hips straining and failing to find leverage against the immobilising rope. She took his involuntary cues anyway, letting the tiny twitches dictate when to lick, when to suck, when to stroke, when to envelop his entire cock in the humid warmth, feeling his heartbeat against her tongue and the head at the entrance to her throat.</p><p>Heat flushed his skin and scorched her hand resting on his leg.  She basked in his soft exhaled groans, even though they sounded half-choked, roped-in and restrained, as if his mind stuttered on the idea of finding pleasure where pain was the only logical expectation.</p><p>He began to tremble – tiny shudders breaking against the bonds, traveling across her lips as she moved them over his cock, tenderly, softly, reverently. Releasing him only to ghost warm breath over his length, before wrapping her mouth around him again and loving him; loving him until she felt the ropes grow taut, his flesh tense, heard him crying out above her, and then she was drinking him down.</p><p>She raised her face when the pulsing aftershocks finally subsided and the muscles beneath her hand relaxed into softness. His head was thrown back, eyes still shut, lips parted and slack. They moved as she watched him, his tongue wetting them, before words emerged.</p><p>“Karen, I…. This… I…”</p><p>He gave up, and she grinned all the harder as she tucked him back into his boxers, stood and began to unravel the ropes, starting from his chest and shoulders, then his wrists and, lastly, his ankles. She ran her palms over each released part of him, massaging and soothing, quickening the bloodflow where it may have been constricted, marveling at how boneless he was. How pliant.</p><p>He hardly moved, no longer tried to speak, though he raised his head and tilted it in a way that told her he was following her movements again. But, even so, she could tell his focus was fracturing beneath the flood of oxytocin and dopamine she released in his body.</p><p>He responded to her tug on his hands, and stood up, swaying slightly, but he only had to take two steps to the bed and she was, again, urging him down, pulling the t-shirt over his head. He reached for her then, his hands working her blouse out of her jeans, but she gently caught them, raised them to her lips, kissing his palms and murmuring, “Later, love. Rest now.”</p><p>He barely complained as he lay down.</p><p>Karen shucked her own clothes, then got into bed and moulded herself against his back, sliding her arm over his side and resting her palm on his chest. His heart beat strong and slow beneath her hand, and she quietly delighted in his drowsy relaxed warmth. Then Matt gently grasped her wrist and pushed her hand up until she was touching the stubble-prickly skin of his neck and lightly hugging his throat. She felt him take a deep breath and let it out, his jaw shifting against her index finger, larynx nudging her palm as he swallowed and settled into her hand and against her body. He was asleep within minutes, and Karen followed him soon after, her pillow wet from silently falling tears, his life flowing safely behind the fence of her fingers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title and lyrics from Halestorm's "Unapologetic"<br/>----<br/>The wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker">NotAWriterJustALurker</a> has created an incredible (and VERY HOT) piece of <a href="https://notawriterjustalurker.tumblr.com/post/616724534759915520/inspired-my-the-fics-unbreakable-and-unapologetic">art</a> inspired by this fic. Please check it out. </p><p>Also, the name is very much a misnomer.  :) <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker">NotAWriterJustALurker</a> does write, and very well, so if you want more hot Karedevil action, check out their stuff.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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